"Why aren’t you eating?" Drishti asked, noticing that Advait hadn’t taken even a single bite.

“Actually… I just don’t feel—” he began, but her sharp glare cut him off. “Don’t even think about it,” she said firmly.

“But, Drishti, you have to understand; I really don’t feel like eating,” he tried to explain, his tone softening. She looked at him with determination, turning to pick up his plate. For a second, Advait thought she was letting it go and started to rise. But then she grasped his hand firmly, pushing him back onto the sofa.

“Sit. Quietly,” she instructed, crossing her legs as she settled beside him, making it clear she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Advait gave her a questioning look, but she simply tore off a piece of bread, dipped it into the curry, and held it out to him. “Don’t start acting like royalty, Noor Jahan,” she muttered, her tone slightly annoyed. He sighed, opening his mouth to take the bite, and her frown immediately turned into a smile, her satisfaction showing as he ate.

After making sure he’d finished his meal, she took a few bites herself, then set both plates aside. “See? You’ve cleared the entire plate,” she said with a satisfied smirk. “If I’d let you be, you’d still be sulking and starving.” She handed him a glass of water.

Advait took a sip, watching her with a soft gaze as she admired him, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “It’s alright, go ahead, act spoiled. You have a wife willing to spoil you,” she added, patting herself on the back. He chuckled, setting the glass down.

“By the way, why didn’t you come to dinner?” she asked suddenly.

Advait looked at her, pausing for a moment. “I just… didn’t feel like it.”

“Really?” She cupped his face with gentle hands, her eyes searching his. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Alright, let me take the plates to the kitchen now,” she said, standing up.

“No need, you sit. I’ll take them,” he replied, already moving to collect the plates. Drishti gave him a thumbs-up.

“Look at you, learning,” she teased.

He flashed her a grin. “Well, with a teacher like you, I had to learn. "Neither I have another option nor I want.”

…………………………….

“Why are you sleeping on the sofa?” Advait asked, his patience wearing thin as he repeated himself for what felt like the ninth time.

Drishti was nestled under the blanket, pretending to be fast asleep. But he wasn’t fooled—he knew she was only avoiding him. With a sigh, he leaned over, attempting to pull the blanket away. She held onto it tightly, refusing to budge.

“Drishti, don’t test my patience—or your luck,” he warned in a low, serious tone. Reluctantly, she let go of the blanket, sitting up with an annoyed expression.

“Are you threatening me?” she asked, standing up on the sofa to tower over him, arms crossed. He looked up at her, amused but firm.

“No, I’ve been asking you nicely—why are you sleeping on the sofa?” he said, trying to keep his tone calm.

“Because I always sleep on the sofa,” she replied defiantly, as if that settled it.

He clicked his tongue in frustration. “That’s not an answer.”

Advait’s voice softened but grew more insistent. “I’m saying this for the last time—will you sleep with me?” Her eyes went wide at his words, and he immediately clarified, “I mean, we can share the bed. It’s big enough.”

Drishti’s cheeks flushed, and she averted her gaze, her earlier defiance slowly giving way to uncertainty.

"Umm... actually…" she mumbled, her eyes darting around nervously.

Advait raised an eyebrow, catching her hesitance. “Are you rejecting me?” he asked, his tone challenging but soft. She quickly looked back at him, her expression a mix of surprise and shyness.

"No... no," she stammered, shaking her head.

“So, you’re saying yes?” he teased, stepping closer. He gently took her hand, his fingers warm and steady. “Come down here.”

Drishti climbed down from the sofa, now standing mere inches from him. Advait placed his hands gently on her arms, his gaze filled with a tenderness she hadn’t expected. She glanced down at his hands, then back up at him, her heart racing as he spoke.

“I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again—we can share the bed. I’ve never stopped you from doing so; you decided to stay on the sofa yourself. I don’t know what you thought or why you chose that, but I never liked seeing you sleep there. I just assumed maybe you weren’t comfortable sharing the bed with me, so I didn’t say anything…”

Every word was sincere, filled with an unspoken depth that made his eyes gleam with emotion. She could feel the weight of his feelings in his gaze, a silent pain reflecting a love held back by distance. His eyes spoke of longing, of the ache of loving someone while holding them at arm’s length.

Drishti looked up at him, almost disbelieving the words she was hearing. She hadn’t expected him to express himself like this, hadn’t dared to imagine he felt this way. But here he was, saying everything she had secretly hoped to hear. She blinked back the welling emotions, and after a deep breath, she managed a small nod. Overwhelmed, she asked softly, almost hesitantly, “Can… can I hug you?”

A smile spread across Advait’s face as he nodded. Before he could react further, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing herself close. For others, a hug might be simple, but for them, it felt monumental—a reunion of souls long kept apart. She could feel his heart pounding against hers as she buried herself further into his embrace, pulling him close until he took a step back.

Advait felt his heart beat faster in response. For a moment, he stood still, seemingly lost in the intensity of the moment. Drishti, sensing his hesitation, looked up, her eyes filled with a hint of vulnerability.

“Am I forcing you to hug me?” she asked softly.

Advait blinked, caught off guard. “Wh-”

She cut him off gently. “Why aren’t you hugging me back?” she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips.

A warm smile spread across his face, and he responded by wrapping his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. Drishti sighed contentedly, nestling her head against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart—a sound she felt she could lose herself in forever.

……………………..

Birds stirred in the branches, stretching their wings to greet the dawn as the world slowly awakened, welcoming the warmth and hope of morning.

As he opened his eyes, he felt a pang of disappointment. He had hoped to see his wife beside him, but she wasn’t there. He sat up, looking around the room, scanning every corner, but there was no sign of her.

"Why does she have to wake up this early?" was the only question running through his mind.

Realizing his morning wasn’t going to be as he’d imagined, he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, feeling a bit lost without her presence.

…………………….

It was breakfast time, and everyone was seated at the dining table. Yet, the atmosphere felt tense, almost stifling—especially with Advait and Tej both present. Advait tried to avoid coming altogether, but under his grandfather's urging, he reluctantly joined the others.

He glanced at Drishti, but she was absorbed in her tasks. With her college still closed, she seemed preoccupied with other work, so he quickly shifted his attention back to his breakfast, his only thought to leave the room as soon as possible. His dislike for his father ran so deep that even sitting at the same table felt unbearable.

Drishti soon approached, placing a cup of coffee in front of him. But without looking at her, Advait stood up abruptly. “I’m done. I’m leaving,” he said.

His grandfather looked up, frowning. “But you haven’t eaten properly.”

“I have,” he replied curtly, glancing around but avoiding Drishti’s gaze entirely, even though she was standing right beside him. Without another word, he walked out.

Drishti felt a sharp ache in her chest as she watched him go. The way he could be warm one moment and distant the next left her feeling hollow. She picked up the untouched coffee mug, returning to the kitchen, and placed it down on the counter with a frustrated thud.

“It was easier before,” she murmured to herself. “At least when he didn’t speak to me or look my way, it didn’t hurt like this.”

For the first time, she felt the depth of loneliness that came from being invisible to someone she cared about, and it left her feeling like a stranger in her own life.

Meanwhile, Vihaan also attempted to stand up, but Tej's words stopped him in his tracks, drawing everyone’s attention. “Since you don’t have college , can’t you go to the office instead?” Tej asked, his tone sharp.

Vihaan rose from his seat, meeting Tej’s gaze with defiance. “Why should I? Bhaiya is already there, and I don’t have the same hunger for a position in the office like you do.”

His words hung heavy in the room, challenging Tej with a blunt honesty that left everyone momentarily stunned.

Tej stood up from his seat, his anger evident as he walked toward Vihaan. But before he could reach him, Anjali quickly stepped in, placing a hand on Vihaan's shoulder. She shook him gently, her voice trembling with concern. "Vihaan, is this the way you talk to your father? Apologize to him," she urged, trying to calm the tension and shield Vihaan from Tej’s wrath.

Vihaan, however, remained silent, unwilling to speak. His reluctance was clear. Finally, Tej spoke, his voice sharp and filled with frustration. "This is all Advait’s fault. Because of him, his confidence has grown. He won’t stay in this house. Once he’s gone, everything will go back to normal," he said, his gaze shifting between Vihaan and Anjali.

Vihaan, unable to hold back his anger, mumbled under his breath, "This isn't his fault; it's yours," before turning to walk away.

Anjali watched him leave, her heart heavy with a mix of frustration and helplessness. She looked around, hoping to see Drishti, but she was nowhere to be found. A quiet sigh of relief escaped her lips.

It was late at night, almost midnight, and Drishti sat at her desk, surrounded by the soft glow of her study lamp. She was writing in her diary, a habit she had picked up over the years. Her diary had become her silent confidante, a place where she could pour out her thoughts and emotions, especially during those lonely moments when no one else was there to listen. In it, she had confided secrets, frustrations, and heartaches that she held close, trusting it to keep them safe.

Tonight, a mix of frustration and pain gnawed at her. She checked the time, feeling the weight of the hours that had passed. Is this really the time to come home? she thought, unable to keep the resentment from creeping into her mind. He always seems in such a hurry to leave, but never in a rush to come back.

Drishti felt tangled in her own emotions, trying to make sense of the ache building within her, but it felt elusive, hard to define. It left her staring at the page, pen in hand, struggling to put her feelings into words.